


One-way Three-way

by Geist



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alcohol, Ball Sucking, Biting, Breast Play, Coffee, Cum Eating, Cum Inside, Cum Swallowing, Cunnilingus, Dancing, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/F/M, F/M, Goth - Freeform, Groping, Kissing, Masturbation, Multi, Music, Nightclub, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Polyamorous relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Threesome, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, blowjob, striptease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 19:57:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12778374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geist/pseuds/Geist
Summary: Settling into their new polyamorous relationship, Akira, Tae and Futaba are searching for ways to expand their horizons. It just so happens that Tae’s a member of a club with a secret hidden in the walls...





	One-way Three-way

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are portrayed as 18+

Another evening at the Café Leblanc: door locked, sign flipped to 'closed', plates and cups drying in their racks. The calm of a public place made private. Three people sat at one of the tables, two at one side, one at the other. Plates stained with the remnants of curry sat in front of them, along with three steaming cups. Coffee, the last of the day, a little jolt to propel them through the next few hours until bed.

Futaba Sakura blew delicately across the top of hers, took a sip, sighed appreciatively. "Still got it," she said, nudging her boyfriend in the ribs.

"Were you worried I'd lost it?" said Akira Kurusu, the boyfriend in question.

"Well, you're still a coffee noob compared to dad. It's conceivable you'd mess up somewhere."

"This from the woman who burns ramen?"

"How dare you sir? Me, burn ramen? Blasphemy."

"Okay, not ramen," Akira conceded. "Everything else, though."

They bickered good-naturedly, while across the table another woman watched them with amused eyes. Tae Takemi was the third point of their triangle. Not quite their lover; Futaba and Akira reserved that particular passion for each other, but Tae and Akira were certainly physically devoted to one another. A devotion that was growing, too, between her and Futaba. She'd coached Futaba through her first few times with Akira, and lately, shown her what two women could do together, even without Akira's presence. Futaba had to admit she liked the feeling of Tae's hands exploring her body, medically trained but with none of the impersonality that implied.

"Are you done?" Tae asked, tolerantly, when their argument eventually lulled. 

"Yeah, I think I'm done busting his chops for the moment," Futaba said. 

Akira opened his mouth and looked ready to start the whole thing over again. Tae jumped in before he could. "Good, because I wanted to ask you both something." 

"Ask away," said Akira. 

"Would you two be interested in coming to a club with me this weekend?"

"I'm free."

"Like, a sex club?" Futaba asked. 

Her partners stared at her for a moment.

"Futaba, you can't just ask people if they go to a sex club," said Akira. 

"What? It's a legitimate question."

"Out of curiosity," Tae said, "what about me makes you think 'sex club'?" 

"Well, you're in an open relationship threesome, for one." Futaba held up a finger. "You're pretty gothy, and goths like sex clubs." Another finger. 

"Not all goths like sex clubs!"

"Objection overruled. You are definitely the type of goth that likes sex clubs. And finally-" up went the third finger "-you're super kinky and would definitely be into sex clubs even if you weren't a goth." 

"Well, you're wrong," said Tae. "This is a nightclub. You know, music, dancing?" Very quickly, in a mumble, she added something Futaba couldn't hear.

"Sorry? Didn't quite catch that."

"Fine," said Tae. "There may be certain...sexual elements." 

"Haha!" Futaba punched the air in triumph.

"But not quite in the way you're thinking. Though there is a bondage night. But that's only once a month. And it's actually pretty tame."

"So, what is it like?" asked Akira. 

"Well, you'll have to come along and find out, won't you," said Tae, a smile playing over her lips. 

"Oh." Futaba shrank back in her chair, a significant drawback having occurred to her. "Umm, this place. Probably pretty noisy, right?" 

"The music is quite loud, yes," said Tae, looking at her with concern. "Sorry, I forgot..." 

"No, it's fine. And umm...there'll be lots of people, I guess."

"Actually, it's a private club. The crowds are a bit smaller than most."

"I see. Still..."

"We don't have to go if you don't want to," Akira said.

"No, I want to go," said Futaba. She balled up her fists, pulled what she imagined was a determined face. "This is another boss level for me, right? Like when we were doing my list."

Akira nodded.

"You've never been to a club before?" Tae asked.

"Nope," said Futaba.

"Well then, this should be an experience."

"Hey, if it helps me level up."

"You are such a nerd."

"This from a woman who's still a goth in her thirties?"

Another argument started up, this time with Akira on the sidelines.

That Saturday saw the three of them wandering down a twilight street that Futaba wouldn't have found entertaining during the day, let alone at night. Shuttered office buildings lined the pavements, their employees gone off to Roppongi, to crowded bars and bustling clubs, or perhaps the theatre, the cinema, a nice restaurant. Straight home, even. Anywhere that wasn't Boring Street, Tokyo. Futaba wondered if Tae had gotten them lost.

Well, if they were walking aimlessly, at least they looked good doing it. Tae had advised them on what to wear, and so Futaba had dug an old black jacket out of her closet. The white skull on the back with an on/off symbol in place of an eye socket looked, she hoped, suitably cybergothy, and if that didn’t do it the letter ‘AFK’ slashed below certainly would. Beneath that, she wore a black-and-white striped top, black short shorts even shorter than her usual shorts, and a pair of thigh boots in yes, black. Black, Futaba gathered, predominated at this club. Yearning for a splash of colour, and unwilling to abandon her headphones even for a night, she’d hung a lime green pair around her neck.

Futaba looked over at Akira. As if to match her, he'd gone for a black t-shirt with a skull and crossbones silkscreened on one side, along with black jeans. Simple, but effective. And Tae had gone back to an old favourite: her deep blue spiderweb dress, mini leather jacket, ripped tights and pumps that Futaba doubted she could have even put a foot in without breaking an ankle. Tae's studded collar was extra spiky tonight, her eyeshadow extra cadaverous. Her lips were painted in something dark and glossy, so plump that they gave Futaba a tingle just to look at them.

"Here we are," said Tae, pointing at something. "Just down there."

Futaba almost didn't notice it at first. A stairwell, set into the pavement, leading down to the basement of yet another office block. At the bottom of it stood a man whose skin was even paler than Futaba's had been during her hikikomori years. Unlike her, though, he bulged with muscle. Nervously, side by side with Akira, Tae trailing behind them, Futaba approached.

The bouncer goth held out a hand. "You two members?" he asked in a tombstone voice. "I haven't seen you around before."

"They're with me, Zero," said Tae, sliding between them.

"Oh, hey Plague," said the man called Zero, his tone not changing an octave. "Guests, huh. They got handles?"

"Skull," said Akira. Futaba elbowed him.

"That's not yours!" she hissed.

"I'm borrowing it," he whispered back.

Zero looked at her expectantly. "Oh jeez, Dead...erm, Pixel?"

"Just put them down as Akira and Futaba," said Tae, shaking her head.

"I dunno." Zero took out a pen and notebook, jotted down their names. "Skull, Dead Pixel and The Plague. Kinda catchy."

"Don't encourage them, either."

Zero put his notebook away, stepped to the side and pushed open the door for them. They stepped inside. The door clanged shut behind them, and Futaba jumped. 

As Futaba's eyes adjusted to the gloom, her anxiety became excitement. They were in a short corridor, a low, rhythmic pulse reverberating through the double doors at the other end. The walls, and even the ceiling, were plastered in band posters, some tattered and faded, others new and vibrant, crowded together so thickly that they overlapped one another. Mostly, they were for metal groups, dark industrial and techno acts. Futaba squinted at one.

"Hey! I know these guys. They're pretty big. They played here?"

"You wouldn't believe the gigs this place has," said Tae, strolling on ahead. "Half of ‘em started out here."

Futaba caught up with Tae and Akira.

"This is so cool!" Futaba said. "Exactly my kind of-"

Dramatically, Tae flung the doors open, and a wall of sound hit Futaba just as she said "-music!"

Reflexively, Futaba clapped her hands to her ears. Akira rested his hand on her shoulder, while Tae held the doors, waiting to see if she was okay.

A second later, Futaba's hands fell to her sides. "I'm fine!" she yelled, over a grinding, mechanical beat. "Just took me by surprise." Tae nodded, and the stepped inside, doors swinging shut behind them.

"This place is - wow," Futaba muttered. Nobody heard, but she was far too busy taking it all in to worry. Myriad lights span and gimballed and flashed up in the gantries, flashing off mirrors built into the upper walls, while bundles of neon EL wire wrapped around pretty much any structure that'd support it flickered in time to the music. The denizens of this underworld raved in the centre of it all, overseen by a pink-haired DJ who held her headphones to one ear and looked extremely busy working a vast array of mixing equipment. She wasn't the only one with unusual hair; everyone seemed to have something different, some dyed, others not. Mohawks, side cuts, lank black locks that reached down to their owners' knees. And the clothes! Futaba had thought she'd been daring with hers, now she realised she was hopelessly conservative. There was leather. There were spikes. There were straps and buckles, goggles and glowsticks. With an illicit thrill, Futaba realised some of the dancers were even tattooed.

"Drinks," came Tae's voice over the din. "Before Futaba gets her mind blown even more."

"My mind isn't blown!" Futaba said, indignantly, trying to project her voice in the same way Tae did. “It's just - it's amazing, right Akira?"

He nodded, clearly trying to be cool, but Futaba could tell he was as impressed as she was.

Tae escorted them to a table in an alcove. While she went off to get drinks, Futaba and Akira sat, trying to adjust themselves to this new world. Tae returned sans drinks, and they looked at her quizzically.

"Waiter service," she explained, "you don't get that in a Roppongi club. At least, not without paying through the nose for it."

Their waiter turned out to be a punk with a foot-tall mohawk gelled into lurid red spikes, and a chain connecting a piercing in her nose to one in her ear. Futaba tried not to stare.

"Cool hair," she said to Futaba, as she laid their drinks on the table. "What's your dye?"

"I-it's natural!" Futaba said, shocked that anyone here would think her hair was cool.

The punk nodded. "Pretty sick."

She took the tray away, leaving Akira and Tae with a beer each, and Futaba with-

"How come you get beer and I get a kiddy drink," she said, stirring the pink concoction in front of her with one of the multiple straws poking out of it.

"You don't like beer," said Akira, quite reasonably.

"And that's not a kids' drink," said Tae. "Go easy on it."

Futaba took a sip. "Hey, that's good!"

"Told you."

Futaba heeded Tae's advice, and tried not to guzzle her cocktail, despite its deliciousness. With her small stature, it took about two glasses of sake to get Futaba tipsy, and four before she was quite considerably drunk. Now she was here, she found she wanted to enjoy the place without being too impaired.

While they drank, they chatted, and Tae pointed out various interesting bits of the club: pictures of famous patrons behind the bar, yet more hastily photocopied posters for acts that had gone on to be huge, or at least vaguely well known, the faces of regulars in the heaving crowd of dancers.

Futaba finished the last of her drink just as Tae and Akira did theirs. She was chasing the last few droplets around with her straw when a change in the music made her look up. Dark, heavy synths, a rising electronic tone...

"I know this song!"

She leapt out of her seat, buzzing with excitement and a little alcohol. She looked over at the crowd on the floor and found, to her amazement, that it didn't give her the slightest twinge of anxiety. "C'mon, let's go dance!"

Tae and Akira looked at one another, then smiled, got out of their seats and, flanking her, accompanied her to the dancefloor.

They pushed their way into the press of bodies, and Futaba was instantly intoxicated in a way that had nothing to do with the booze. The smell of fresh sweat, the heat of other people, the thump thump thump of the music in her ears, louder and more overpowering than anything her headphones could produce.

Futaba danced, not caring that she didn't really know how. She mashed together half-remembered moves she'd seen in videos, stomped, leapt, twirled, moved herself in ways that felt right and ways she thought might at least look a little cool. People looked at her, not out of pity or curiosity, but with approval, with smiles and the odd cheer, giving her the thumbs up and metal horns. 

The bass dropped, the tempo changed, a wildly distorted guitar entered the song and Futaba found herself headbanging with Tae, flinging her locks around, getting strands stuck to her lips and increasingly sweaty forehead. She bumped into Akira and he swept her up, laughing, spinning her around and crushing her to him. 

She wriggled around in his grasp and levered herself up on her tiptoes so her arse was flush with his crotch. She ground against him, scarcely able to believe how brazen she was, while his hands roved up and down her sides, over her belly, onto her breasts, squeezing ever so slightly. She felt his cock stiffen in his pants, and pushed back harder. He leaned over her, murmured, his breath hot on her cheek, and she knew her teasing was having an effect.

As the music slowed and faded into another track, Akira grabbed Futaba by the shoulders, span her to face him and kissed her, shoving his tongue deep into her mouth. She responded in kind, overcome with a sudden need for him. Sneaking glances to the side, making sure that too many people weren't watching, she cupped his crotch and gave it a quick fondle.

"I guess I'll be taking care of that later," she said, breaking the kiss.

"Maybe not quite as late as you think," said Tae, enigmatically, appearing at Futaba's periphery.

Akira embraced Tae, kissed her the way he had Futaba, completing their triangle. Flushed and panting, the three of them trooped off the dancefloor and reoccupied their table. 

"Another drink?" Tae asked.

"Same as before, thanks," said Akira.

"Futaba?"

"Surprise me," she said, trying to sound cool and failing utterly. 

Tae nodded and headed off to the bar. While she was gone, Futaba curled her leg around Akira's and they played footsie until Tae came back and joined in, a threeway tangle of shoes and legs beneath the table. The waiter came over, and while she distributed the drinks gave Futaba a wink that made her blush to the roots of her hair.

"She likes you," said Tae, nudging Futaba with her elbow. "Interested in adding a fourth to our little club?"

"I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet," said Futaba. "But maybe another time."

Tae smiled, nodded.

Something cloudy and pale yellow bubbled in Futaba's glass.

"Hard lemonade," Tae explained. "A little less potent than most. Shouldn't get you too wasted."

Futaba took a sip. A little sweet, a little sour, and there was the faint, warming flush of booze. "Nice," she said, and set to drinking it down.

The music blasting through the club quieted, fading out as the DJ swapped in the next track. And in the lull Futaba heard something strange. Something high-pitched, and something lower with it. Almost like a scream, or a cry, or maybe a...

"Did you hear that?" Akira asked.

"Yeah!" Futaba said. "Was it part of the song or what?"

And there it was again. It seemed to come from above, but given the general level of noise it was impossible to pinpoint exactly where. They looked up and around, peering into the gantries and at the mirrors lining the walls, but nothing stood out. They looked back down at Tae. She was absolutely poker-faced.

"You said this place had 'sexual elements'," said Akira. "Is this..."

"Maybe," said Tae, raising her hand to cover her mouth. Futaba saw mischief in her eyes. "Why don't you keep an eye on those mirrors."

Futaba and Akira cast their eyes up again, and kept a careful watch. Nothing happened for a few minutes. The light flashed over the glass, bouncing back and dazzling them, just as it would have with perfectly ordinary mirrors. Then, they saw it.

A chance confluence in the lighting routines caused most of the floor lights to go out all at once, plunging the club into gloom. Suddenly, the mirrors were dark windows, and behind one of them Futaba saw the silhouette of two people kneeling, faces pressed together, clearly naked. The lights flicked back on and the window was a mirror again.

"Holy crap!" said Futaba, rather more loudly than she'd intended. "People are fucking up there!" She looked around, blushed, and shrank back into her seat.

"So there are private rooms," Akira said, "and the mirrors-"

"Are one-way glass. There's soundproofing too." Tae said. The music dropped again, and another faint moan echoed down to them. "Of course, it's not perfect."

"The people up there can see everyone down below," said Futaba, almost to herself. "And sometimes we can see them..."

She looked at Akira, who raised his eyebrows. Turning to Tae, she said "How do we get up there?"

Tae smiled. "I thought you'd never ask." She rose, and went to the bar again.

"You're really up for this?" Akira asked Futaba once they were alone.

"Yep. You?"

"Yeah. And you're not just doing this because you're drunk, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Jober as a sudge, oshiffer. C'mon, Akira, if I can do this I'll probably like, kill the rest of my social anxiety in one hit."

"Well, he said with a smile, "don't get your hopes up too much."

"Yeah, I know, fucking in public probably isn't a silver bullet for my problems. But it'll be fun."

"I think you're right about that."

Tae returned. "Ready?" she asked.

Futaba stood, picked up her drink, pounded the last few dregs. "Ready!" she said, slamming her glass back down. Akira followed suit, a bit more sedately.

Tae led them over to a crevice hidden away in the corner of the club, a little way away from the dancefloor. With a thick black curtain covering it, it was almost invisible. She drew it to one side, and revealed an incredibly slender staircase, just wide enough to admit one person.

"After you," Tae said, motioning Futaba and Akira through.

They began to ascend, Tae shutting the curtain behind them, muffling but far from excluding the noise of the club. The bass vibrated all around them, and combined with the faint red lights that illuminated the stairwell, gave Futaba the impression that she was inside some giant living creature.

The stairs opened out on an equally tight corridor that wound around to the left, lined with curtains like the one down below. And from behind them, Futaba heard the sounds of sex. Moans, grunts, gasps, impassioned cries from a dozen throats.

"Room seven," Tae whispered from behind.

Futaba led the way, her stomach fluttering as she listened to the the chorus of fucking echoing from those hidden rooms. She felt a heat rising between her legs, and squeezing her thighs together during her next few steps, felt the wetness there.

She all but ripped down the curtain to room seven when she reached it. Barrelling forward, she collided with something at shin height and fell face first onto something half-soft, half-firm, rolling at the last second to save her glasses. Her eyes adjusted to the even dimmer light in the room, she realised the whole place was occupied by one large bed.

"How the heck did they get this up here?" she wondered aloud, then quickly dismissed the thought as unimportant.

Tae and Akira piled in after Futaba, while she shuffled over on her knees to the window, the other side of one of those mirrors.

"I can see everything!" she said. 

There was the bar, the table they'd sat at, the great mass of dancers on the floor, all illuminated by the flickering club lights, which flashed off suddenly. Futaba remembered that the people down below could see into the private rooms when that happened. She eeped, and ducked down until the lights resumed their usual pattern.

"A-and they can see us. And hear us." She took a deep breath.

Akira and Tae flanked her, stroking her arms and shoulders reassuringly.

"Still sure about this?" Akira asked.

At first Futaba was tempted to say no, that it was a dumb idea and they should go back down, but she turned, caught sight of Akira and Tae, both of them dark, gothic and sexy, and she remembered how much she wanted them right now. She remembered her first trips out with Akira: the thrill of walking through a crowd and not instantly falling into a blind panic, and reminded herself that scary things could be fun.

"Still sure," she said. "Lemme prove it."

In a sudden flurry, she threw off her jacket, casting it into the corner, and rolled her tanktop up and over her breasts, revealing a bra picked specially for the evening: black lace and very skimpy.

Tae dived in, and, distracting Futaba with a kiss on the cheek, reached behind her and unhooked her bra. Futaba pulled her arms through the holes of her top, leaving it hanging loose around her neck, and slid her bra straps down and off. The cups fell away, baring her pert, pointy breasts and their little pink nipples. Tae took hold of one, rolling it beneath her palm, and Futaba gasped as her sensitive teat sang at Tae's touch.

Akira looked up, envy in his eyes. He was busy loosening one of Futaba's boots, sliding it down her slender calf, and she sat up to take care of the other one.

"I wanna put those back on you when we've got these off," he said, running his hands up her legs, over her thighs, to pluck at her shorts. "You look so sexy in them."

"'Fuck me' boots," Tae agreed. Crouched behind Futaba, she brushed her hair out of the way and ducked down nibble her shoulder.

"They're...not," Futaba said, gasping.

"They are," said Akira, firmly.

Futaba didn't know whether to be pleased or embarrassed, but Akira had his hand on her crotch and the distinction suddenly didn't seem that important. He worked the fabric of her shorts and panties against her mound, and she felt her wetness wicking through them, warm, slick, sticky. Her breath hitched as he moved his thumb in circles, and with each perambulation he bumped her clit, already hard and throbbing beneath its hood. She squirmed and whimpered while Tae encircled her with her arms, sure she was going to cum right there and totally humiliate herself.

Akira relented, and Futaba was both relieved and disappointed. He moved up to the fastenings of her shorts, where he flicked open the button and ever so slowly unzipped her fly. Tight as they were, it took some wriggling to get her shorts free of her thighs. Tae held Futaba firm while she shifted back and forth and Akira tugged at them. At last they came free, and she lifted her legs so he could pull them clear.

He went up her thighs again and cupped her arse through her panties and leaned in for a kiss. She wrapped him in her arms, sucking at his lips before she slid her tongue into his mouth, conjoining hers with his. When they were done, he raised his head, leaned over her shoulder, and she heard him and Tae doing the same.

Meanwhile, Akira's hand had found its way back to Futaba's pubis, and he dipped his fingers beneath her panties' waistband, brushing through the neat patch of pubic hair she maintained, coming tantalisingly close to her bare pussy. It was a feint; he slid his hand around and tweaked her underwear off her hips, one side then the other. He rolled her panties down, peeling their soaking lace away from her mound. She watched, breath held, biting her lip. Another inch, and she was naked, or as close to as made no difference.

"Boots," she said, wiggling her toes beneath her socks as Akira dragged her panties over them. Obediently, he picked them up and slid them back on.

Futaba stood, holding up her top, balancing on the bed's uneven surface. Heart thumping, she made herself turned to the window and take a couple of hesitant steps towards it. The floor lights winked out for a moment. Was that a cheer from below? She blushed deeply, imagining all those eyes on her, but found she had no desire to hide herself. Shivering deliciously, she sat back down.

"Well?" she said to Akira. "Why aren't you undressed?"

"She has a point," said Tae. "Hop to it."

"On it!" said Akira.

He stripped off his trousers in record time, Tae and Futaba watching him like cats as he unveiled those lean, acrobat's legs. Futaba felt little muscles in her pussy twitching, and she dropped a hand down to touch herself. She was as wet as she'd ever been, her lips hot and fat, already parted even without her help. God, she wanted it.

Akira saved her favourite part for last, when he was down to nothing but his boxers and his shirt. He hooked his fingers under the waistband and pulled them down, unveiling first the engorged head of his cock, half wrapped in its dark foreskin, down further, for that thick, sculpted shaft, even further for his wild dark bush and those big, heavy balls practically overflowing with his cum.

Futaba wasn't about to let him tease her without getting her own back. She put her palm on his chest and shoved, sending him sprawling back, and before he could recover she was bent over his crotch, mouth an inch away from his prick. He tried to struggle back up but Tae, sitting behind him, caught his shoulders and rested her weight on them.

"Let Futaba do her thing," she said.

Futaba began by blowing, gently at first, then with more vigour, on the base of his cock, moving up bit by bit until she reached his glans. She giggled as his whole shaft twitched, delighted by the fact that something as insubstantial as her breath could have such an effect. Only when Akira groaned out a long "Futabaaaaa..." and begged for more did she deign to stick out her tongue and give his tip the tiniest of licks.

In the same manner, she worked her way back down his length, just tapping the tip of her tongue against his skin then pulling it away, until she was back at his balls and her own appetites took over. She was fascinated by the ridiculous wrinkly things, and held them in her palm, feeling them constantly contracting and expanding as she lavished affection on them. Coating them in a film of her saliva, plastering down the fine, wiry hairs sprouting from them, she took them into her mouth, one, then the other, lashing her tongue around them. Akira's whimpers grew more pronounced, but Futaba knew he was loving it.

With his nuts suitably attended to, Futaba returned to his dick. She wrapped her lips around it from the side, pushing her tongue against the semi-hard flesh on its underbelly. Gathering enough drool to ease her way, she moved up, flicking her tongue around, keeping her lips moist and tight. She crossed the rumpled edges of his foreskin, bundled up below the rim of his cockhead, then moved on to that smooth, purple, ultrasensitive part of his, thrilling to his moans. 

Futaba could feel her quim leaking: a steady stream of her juices beading on her labia and dripping down to the bed below. Wondering how much wetter she could make herself, she opened her mouth and took Akira's cock inside.

Faster now, Futaba bobbed her head a couple of times, slicking the top half of his prick with spittle, tilting her head so that his cockhead ground against her cheek, making it bulge out in a way she knew he particularly liked. A dribble of pre oozed down over her tongue: salty, perhaps a little bitter, but still a treat for her.

When she tired of that, Futaba drew back, keeping just Akira's tip in her mouth, while she took a couple of deep breaths through her nose and prepared herself for the next step. She was intensely envious of Tae's ability to basically swallow a cock whole, and practiced every chance she got to match her.

Futaba gagged a little as Akira's cockhead hit the back of her muscles, tears springing to her eyes, but with a quick swallow she was able to suppress the reflex. His dick slipped into her gullet with the barest resistance. Drooling, feeling him twitch against the delicate lining of her throat, she kept on going, until at last her lips were sealed around his base and his pubes tickled her nose. She had to refrain from sneezing. There was no way that would end well.

Dizzy with her success and from slight oxygen starvation, she pulled back, keeping her lips suctioned to his shaft. She heard Akira panting, felt his hips trembling as he fought to keep them under control, and experienced a tight little shiver of satisfaction when he groaned out:

"God, that feels so good."

Futaba tried going down on him a couple more times, but she needed more practice until she could really deepthroat him, and eventually she was forced to draw back coughing, gloopy cables of saliva connecting her lips and his cock.

"You okay?" he asked, his tone concerned.

"Fine," she said, and rolled over, supporting herself on her elbows. She spread her legs, motioned to her pussy. "But it's your turn to show me a good time."

Tae released his shoulders, and Akira leapt up, flopped onto his hands and knees, closed the distance between him and Futaba in one quick pounce. He shoved his head between her thighs and began to lick: quick, sloppy laps that enveloped her entire mound in warmth and, to her amazement, even more wetness.

Akira was perfectly capable of teasing Futaba if he wanted, but that wasn't on the cards tonight. He wanted her ready and able to take his dick, she knew, so she dropped onto her back, reached down, gripped her lips and peeled them apart, exposing a swathe of glistening pinkness for him. She yelled out loud as, without warning, he drove his tongue into her, swirling it violently, opening her wide. With his own fingers he carefully pinched her clit, hood and all, rubbing it hard enough that her hips arched involuntarily and a ragged whine forced its way up from her lungs.

Futaba would have happily ridden his mouth to her peak, but he had his needs, and if she could satisfy them while getting off too, so much the better.

"C'mon," she said, voice hoarse and heavy. "Stick it in me, already."

He must have been holding himself back from doing so, because the instant she asked for it, Akira dragged himself up her body, pressed his lips to hers and slithered his juice-impregnated tongue into her mouth. She tasted herself on him, and as she slid her tongue past his into his mouth, wondered if the same applied to him.

Futaba felt Akira's hand questing around between them. He gripped his cock and guided it to her opening. She inhaled through her nose, bracing herself for the pleasure to come. His cockhead bumped against the edges of her hole, hard and hot, and she mewled into his mouth, hands gliding down his body to clasp his arse and urge him him to take her.

In one thrust, he did. She broke their kiss and squealed out loud, her whole body tingling with that first instant of connection. Her walls were wrapped tight around his prick, stretched and moulded so perfectly to it that she could practically feel every vein and contour on its surface. She clenched down, holding him even more firmly as he pulled out, biting her lips as he bumped over each of her inner ridges and filled her with friction heat.

Akira built his speed and his power, hips patting against Futaba's, his mouth nibbling at her clavicle and her hands wrapped in his feathery hair. Futaba heard herself groaning constantly, interspersed with the odd scream when his cock pressed into the ultra-sensitive knot of tissue inside her, or when he pushed his hand down and took a cheeky swipe at her clit. She wondered if anyone downstairs had heard them yet, and the idea that they could made her stomach tense with excitement.

Tae was busy adding to their chorus. She sat against the wall, positioned so that Akira and, if she tilted her head back, Futaba could see her. He knees were bent, her legs splayed, her panties stretched from one ankle to the other. Between her thick pussy lips, her fingers worked ceaselessly, slishing over the pink flesh within. She had her head thrown back, her moans almost as loud as Futaba's screams, and every so often she'd flick open her eyes, watch her two partners writhing on the bed together, and push herself to ever greater exertion while her eyelids slowly slipped shut again. She was abandoned, beautifully wanton even from Futaba's upside-down perspective. Not for the first time, Futaba found herself wanting to be like her.

To that end, she brought her hand down to Akira's butt and gave it a tentative slap, digging in her fingers and her nails, loving the way he tensed up under her grasp. He growled at her, mock-fierce, and gave her a little extra burst of power in return. His weight crashed down on her, forcing his cock into her deepest depths, each impact expelling the air from her lungs in gasping squeaks. While he rutted her, she let her fingers creep between his buttocks, searching for his rear entrance. She found it, pressed down, not hard enough to penetrate, but hard enough to give the impression she was. He moaned, deeper and louder than any of his previous cries, and Futaba grinned. His butthole was wonderfully sensitive, and she was eager for him to let her explore it more thoroughly, as Tae had intimated that she had. For now though, she left it alone and moved down stroking his perineum, massaging his prostate from the outside. He whined, thrusts becoming unsteady but even stronger.

It was getting hard to think, each impact jolting her, pleasure welling up, surplus juice gushing from her pussy every time Akira plunged his cock back in. Futaba clung to him, one arm flung over his back, legs wrapped around his. She held his balls in her free hand, feeling them churn and clench, and gave them gentle squeezes in the hopes that doing so would make them fill her full of their contents. Akira held himself up on his left elbow and with his right hand groped her tits, squeezing, stretching, pinching her nipples and tugging them out, hurting her just enough for her to like it. He expected some pain in return, and she obliged by squeezing his nuts harder and sinking her teeth into his shoulder, biting down enough to leave a faint ring of reddish tooth marks. With another growl, he grabbed her shoulder, pushed her back down onto the mattress and planted a kiss on her. She gladly returned it, wrestling his tongue, nipping at his lips then withdrawing quickly before he could do the same.

Their rough handling of each other added adrenaline to the cocktail of hormones flooding their bodies, and Futaba, outside herself for a moment, watched goose pimples raise themselves on her arm. Then another of Akira's brutal thrusts slammed her back into her sensorium, and she was flooded with pleasure, heat, the ache of her muscles, the tension in her tendons. She offered up a ragged howl and Akira joined her, voices mingling in shared frustration at a climax that was tantalisingly close and yet just out of reach.

In the midst of it all, Tae had brought herself off, and sat there, panting, with sticky thighs, dripping fingers and glittering eyes. Seeing Futaba watching her she grinned a lopsided, grin, reached up with her wet hand and squeezed her breast, not caring that she was staining her dress.

That did it for Futaba. Quivering, she came with a deep, loud moan that tapered off into a gasping squeak, and for a moment she was sure she heard a cheer from the floor below and the rooms either side. Her cunt rippled around Akira's cock, each spasm sending another quake through her, and that was enough to get him to blow his load. Her walls clung to his shaft, milking thick rivulets of his jizz from him, filling her to the point where it bubbled out of the gaps between her hole and his prick. With a whimper he fell across her, and she held him tight, melting into him while his cock softened inside her.

A couple minutes of that, then Tae delicately cleared her throat.

"Duty calls," said Futaba with a sigh, giving Akira's arse a light swat. "Go give the doctor some lovin'."

"How do you know it's not you I want?" said Tae.

"Well, do you?"

"Later," said Tae. "That's a promise."

Futaba groaned as Akira slid his dick out of her, slopping more of his cum from her pussy, where it oozed down her butt and soaked into the sheets.

"I hope they wash these," Akira said.

"Daily," said Tae. "This place does have some class."

He crawled towards her, aiming to embrace her, but as he sat up she stood, pressed the toe of her shoe against his sternum, pushed, and sent him sprawling.

"Wait a moment," she said, softly. She trailed her toe down his torso, terminating at his flaccid cock. "Not quite ready yet, are you? I think we'd better do something about that."

Tae's solution was a striptease, one that entranced Futaba as much as it did Akira. Having already taken care of her panties, she began at mid-thigh, trailing her fingers up her leggings and catching the hem of her dress on her fingertips, lifting it to the point where another few millimetres might have had her audience catching a glimpse of her privates. At that point, of course, she let go, skirt falling down while her hands continued up, crossing over each other in front of her crotch, then parting again to stroke her ample hips.

She parted her jacket, grasped her tits, lifted them, let them fall, their bounciness apparent even through the fabric of her dress. Futaba bit her lip and resisted the urge to touch herself, her ardour returning in full force even so soon after her climax.

Tae slipped off her jacket, shrugging it off one shoulder, then the other. The leather slithered down her arms, dropped into her hands, and she cast it aside. She raised her hands again and tugged off her dress' shoulder straps, disentangling her arms from them. With nothing but friction holding it up, her dress slid down her body, revealing what Futaba was desperate to see: a long valley of cleavage underlined by a simple black satin bra, half-cupped and strapless.

Her dress halting its fall around her waist, Tae winked and turned her back to Futaba and and Akira. She tucked up her skirt, keeping her legs tightly closed, privates private between her thighs, but giving them a full and free view of the lovely curves of her arse. Behind her back, with unerring accuracy, she reached up and unsnapped her bra, peeling it away and tossing it over her shoulder. It landed in Futaba's lap, and her mind was instantly filled with a million perverted ideas about what she could do with it.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Tae turned back to her rapt watchers. The tiniest fold of her dress still covered her crotch, and Futaba almost threw up her arms and screamed in frustration. She was forestalled, though, by Tae slowly lowering her arms, revealing her breasts and finally letting them hang free: full, heavy and tipped with erect, dark nipples.

"Holy shit," Futaba muttered. "What a showoff."

At once, as if she couldn't wait anymore, Tae turned, bent over and thrust herself against the window, spreading her legs, mashing her tits flat against the glass. The lights outside dimmed, and there were whoops and yells from below.

"Come and get it," said Tae, glancing over her shoulder at Akira. "Come and fuck me."

All that showing off had done its job. Akira leapt up, cock sticking up and out, and in a single bound crossed over to her. He embraced her, wrapping his arms around her stomach, pressing his chest to her back and deliriously kissing her neck. From behind, Futaba watched and giggled as he thrust febrilely, balls swaying, dick gliding fruitlessly over Tae's quim. From the way she wriggled and moaned in his grasp, she didn't seem to find it entirely unpleasant. At last, Akira found his mark. Shamelessly, Futaba hunkered down to watch him ram his prick into Tae, forcing her lips wide open, stretching her hole with a yell from both her and him.

As with Futaba, the foreplay was already accomplished, the need for a slow start obviated. Akira launched into a flurry of quick, sharp strokes, drilling his cock into her cunt as deep as he could before he yanked it back out. Futaba was almost hypnotised by the sight of his shaft, emerging from those fat folds glistening with Tae's juices and, she supposed, the remnants of hers, then disappearing again with a filthy slapping, squishing noise. She shut her eyes and let her other senses take over, feeling the bass from below reverberate through her body, listening to her partners' sex and sniffing up their scent. Gently, given the circumstances, she squeezed her breast, grinding her hard nipple back into its surrounding flesh, while her other hand dropped down to her pussy. She immersed her fingers in its sloppy heat, coating them in the mixture of her juice and Akira's cum, rubbing just enough to keep her arousal simmering.

Futaba kept her eyes shut until Tae and Akira's fucking set the entire bed bouncing, while the one-way glass creaked and groaned in its frame. Futaba hoped it was sturdy enough to bear their weight. She didn't relish the idea of grabbing them and hauling them back if it shattered. There was public decency to consider, too. The crowd below was roaring at the sight of them, rising to a fever pitch every time the lights dimmed. Futaba could hear people thundering up the stairs, and more voices and noises of pleasure were echoing through from the surrounding rooms, adding to their choir. She couldn't resist contributing a few soft moans of her own, as she pinched her nipple to the point of pain, drove her fingertips up into her g-spot and dabbed at her clit with her thumb. Each tiny touch made her tense her stomach as though she'd been punched, and she had to actively resist just pressing down and rubbing herself to a quick and dirty orgasm.

Tae's legs began to tremble, and her moans became more breathless. It looked as though Akira was all that was keeping her balanced on her high heels, and Futaba worried about her rolling an ankle if she were to fall. Akira, too, was tense, the tendons in his calves standing out sharply, his butt tight enough that it might have been carved from marble. A good look, Futaba had to admit.

As ever, she was fascinated by his balls, watching them closely as they swung to and fro. She half considered getting up behind him and giving them a suck, but he was really going wild now and she didn't relish the thought of getting whacked in the face by his arse. She remained an observer, slowly jilling herself, while their cries reached an earsplitting pitch, crescendoed and crashed into panting roars.

Akira's balls drew themselves up against his pelvis as he came, pumping his second load of cum into Tae. It was still voluminous, as Futaba saw a tide of it roll from the sides of Tae's pussy, spurting out and dripping down between them. He pulled out, and his last few squirts ended up as milky-white streaks across Tae's rear.

Shivering, and clutching, or trying to clutch the window, hands curled into claws, Tae came down from her peak.

"Fuck that was good," she muttered. Rather more loudly, she added: "You'd better not have gotten jizz on my dress."

"Just your butt," said Akira, giving it a pinch and her shoulder a kiss. She scowled at him over said shoulder and peeled herself away from the window. The next time the lights went out, there was a disappointed groan from the clubbers.

Tae laid herself down on her front, resting on her folded arms. "Futaba, be a dear and clean me up, would you, and I'll return the favour. It's going to be a while before he's hard again."

Futaba had taken a moment to look around the room while Tae and Akira had been fucking, and she'd noticed a box of wipes up on a high shelf. Tae surely knew they were there. But Futaba wasn’t about to argue the point, not when there was a frosted butt to worship and a cream-filled pussy to be licked clean.

She scrambled round to Tae's rear and hunkered down over it. Opening her mouth, sticking out her tongue, she took her first tentative lick, lapping up a blob of cum. She swilled it around her mouth, savouring the saltiness, then swallowed it down. Her next slurp was far more enthusiastic. She swiped her tongue over Tae's buttock, following the trail Akira had laid down. Some of his seed clung to her lips, and as she bent to kiss the area she'd cleared, sucking on Tae's soft skin with shameless smacking noises, she transferred it back. That was alright. It just meant she had an excuse to keep licking.

Tae's bottom was clean and sparkling, if a little moist, long before Futaba said she was done. Regretfully, she gave it one last kiss, a gentle slap just to see it jiggle, and told Tae to roll over. Tae did, and Futaba made a low, longing noise in her throat. Gods, those loose, thick lips, slick with Tae's wetness, inner membranes red and shiny from their fresh fucking and dribbling thick white gobbets of spunk. Futaba planted her face firmly in Tae's crotch and went to work.

She stuck her tongue deep into Tae's opening, swirling it as she sucked, and gulped down the thick cocktail of jizz and juice that came pouring out. It was far too much for her to handle, and streams of it poured down her chin and dripped between Tae's legs. Futaba caught what she could in her hands, and licking her fingers clean with relish. When she'd extracted every bit she could with her tongue, she pushed those same digits between Tae's folds and gave her a quick fingerfuck, hoping to pump out what remained. It was more effective in setting Tae moaning again than anything else. Futaba concluded that Tae was as clean as she was going to get, gave her clit a quick kiss and sat up.

Tae kneeled with her. "You've err, got a little something there," she said, pointing at Futaba's face.

"Where?"

"Everywhere, mostly. Let me..."

Tae pressed her face to Futaba's, and Futaba submitted to the bizarre but delightful experience of having her cheeks, lips and jaw licked clean by another woman. There was still work to do, though, and Tae kept on going, dragging her tongue down Futaba's body, over her breasts, her nipples, her stomach, 'til she was level with her slit. 

She took a few cursory licks at it, each one sending a spike of bliss through Futaba, then rolled onto her back, head against Futaba's legs. Tae held her fingers in a V shape before her mouth, stuck her tongue through them and waggled it. Futaba got the picture. She shuffled forward, positioned herself over Tae's face, and carefully lowered herself. Tae grabbed her thighs and pulled her down rather less cautiously, smothering herself in Futaba's folds.

If Futaba had thought those first few licks were good, having Tae's entire mouth working over her pussy was heaven. She rode Tae's face like a saddle, finding it impossible to keep still. In an instant, Tae's chin and cheeks were smeared in juice and cum, and it didn't bother her for a second. Her dextrous, mobile tongue probed into every crevice it could find, working apart Futaba's folds, her lips encased her clit, pulling it, squeezing it, and Futaba squealed for more, shaking with the intensity of the sensations. Every so often, Tae would nibble at her flesh, her teeth a hard counterpart to the all-pervading softness, thrilling Futaba with the idea that she might bite a bit harder. She paused, every so often, to glug down the fluids accumulated in her mouth. When no more were forthcoming, she stretched out her tongue as far as it would go, delving into Futaba's tunnel, and then as Futaba had done for her used her fingers to scoop out the last few remnants of Akira's seed.

Even when Futaba completely clean, Tae showed no signs of stopping. Futaba would've loved to have sat there and taken her pleasure from those perfect lips, but she wanted to give Tae some love in return. She swung herself off Tae's face, clambered atop her and scrambled up until they were face to face. Tae's eyes were like diamonds, and Futaba's heart beat a little faster when she looked into them. Her lipstick was smudged; Futaba assumed she had black kiss marks all over her thighs and pussy. One more wouldn't hurt. She bent down, kissed Tae deeply, loving the way she both yielded and took control. When they broke apart, Futaba, following Tae's example, licked her face clean.

They cuddled, Futaba feeling like she was sinking into Tae's body, mingling her warmth with hers. Futaba wriggled down Tae's body again and buried her face in her tits. She was surprised when they crushed her glasses against her face, forgetting that she'd been wearing them. Not wanting to lose them, she kept them on, adjusting her approach. While she suckled at Tae's nipple, Tae stroked her hair, combing it out with her fingers into long, silky strands.

"You are just gorgeous," Tae crooned to Futaba, and sighed. "I'm so lucky."

She peered over Futaba's shoulder. "Speaking of, I think you're about to get lucky."

"Mmm?" Futaba mumbled around her mouthful of boob. She let Tae's teat go, looked up and around.

Akira was behind her, cock resurgent. He looked almost painfully hard. Seeing your bedmates treating each other the way she'd been treating Tae would do that, Futaba guessed.

Tae shifted position, raising herself up and Futaba too, presenting Futaba's hindquarters to Akira. Futaba squeaked as his hands gripped her butt and his prick poked her pussy.

"One last go?" he asked.

Futaba would have happily stayed all night, but she didn't want to completely wreck her boyfriend. The music had been calling to her the entire time she'd been up in this room, and the idea of a few more dances with him appealed to her.

He slid into her slowly this time, velvet-smooth, curling his hands around her waist. Futaba was still nicely sloppy from his previous efforts, but she had started to tighten back up, and she got the best of both worlds: the stretching as he opened her out again, the gentle conjoining as he easily thrust into her. His hips bumped against her butt, and he squashed it a little as he wriggled in place, trying to squeeze every last millimetre of his dick into her before he made love to her proper. Her lips kissing his crotch, he started to pull back, angling his cockhead so it ground across her walls. Futaba sighed at the slow pleasure washing over her. She buried her face in Tae's tits, found a nipple and began to suck, while behind her, Akira pushed his way back into her, just as carefully as before.

Tae, for her part, seemed quite content to act as Futaba's pillow. She flopped an arm around Futaba's back, stroked her hair with her other hand, and crooned endearments and encouragement to both her and Akira. Futaba wanted to return her kindness, and she knew exactly how. Still suckling at Tae's tits, she reached back, trailing her fingers down Tae's side, over the silkiness of her dress, onto her thigh. The next part was a little tricky, but Futaba managed it. 

Raising herself up against Akira's steadily increasing pressure, Futaba made enough of a gap to press her hand into the sweltering space between her and Tae's bodies. Groping around she found the puffy edges of Tae's pussy. She gave it a stroke, dragging whispery fingertips up those folds, brushing the swollen pearl of Tae's clit. Tae gasped and stiffened, while Futaba went back down, pressing into Tae's wet centre. Quickly, without warning, she flicked her fingers into Tae's hole, driving them in deep. A stifled yelp escaped Tae, and Futaba looked up to see her head tipped back, eyes closed, mouth open and panting.

"Futaba!" she gasped. "More."

Futaba gave her more, but at Akira's slow pace, matching the thrusts of her fingers with those of his cock. Tae shared the fucking he was giving Futaba, though Futaba's slender fingers couldn't match his glorious thickness. She translated his size into a direct assault on Tae's g-spot, keeping her digits hooked up, grinding them into that knot of flesh with every movement she make. Along with that, Tae got a thumb on her clitoris, dabbing at it, making the odd quick circular rub through its hood that had Tae squealing. Futaba even dared to touch its exposed tip every so often, and that truly made Tae scream.

Futaba felt she could have gone on for hours longer, with her fingers immersed in Tae's heat and Akira slowly sawing away at her pussy. But he was speeding up, and with it came pleasure, with that came the approach to orgasm, the tension, the shortness of breath, the pittering of her heart as she tried to hold back. She intensified her fingerfuck, gladdened by the groans and whimpers and sweet demands she drew from Tae. Futaba wouldn't have believed a woman could get so wet, but the juices built and ran in rivulets over her palm, down her wrist, hot against her skin. As Akira's thrusts grew ever harder, his hips patted her arse, jouncing her forward, in turn forcing her fingers deeper into Tae. Soon he was going faster than she could match, and it was all she could do to leave her poor aching hand in place and let his momentum do the work for her. Judging by her rising moans, Tae didn't mind.

Akira was moaning too, surprisingly close, and Futaba felt his sweat dripping onto her back. Releasing Tae's breast from her mouth, she tried to twist around, and caught a glimpse of him hanging over her, pounding away. Such proof of his passion brought her attention rocketing back to the bliss she was feeling: a tight ball of electricity at the base of her spine. She screamed as it pulsed with another of his thrusts, threatening to explode, overwhelm her entire system, and as if she could escape it see buried her face against Tae's breast, seeking comfort, seeking another sensation to hold on to. Plus she liked sucking them. The pitch of Tae's voice, too, went up an octave when Futaba returned her mouth to her stiff nipple.

That ball was getting bigger, becoming really unstable now, throwing out radiant spikes of ecstasy that made her quiver and yelp into her mouthful of tit. Akira's cock pulsed inside her, while she squeezed her pussy around it, ready to milk out whatever dregs of cum remained in him. Likewise, Tae's cunt was tightening up on her, and its owner was writhing so much that Futaba was having a job staying atop her. At last, she couldn't hold out any longer.

"Akira!" she cried out, Tae's nipple popping from between her lips, body going bowstring-taut. 

Simultaneously, Tae and Akira called out her name, Tae bucking wildly beneath her, while Akira squeezed her waist and his cock leapt inside her, squirting out a smaller spurt of cum than his last few efforts. It was no less satisfying, though, and she felt it splash against her walls, warm and gooey, before her orgasm took her for real and she didn't feel much beyond wild, unbound delight.

Futaba's vision went black. She was concerned for a moment, before she realised there was a certain pinkness to the void, and, a moment later, that she'd faceplanted into Tae's tits again. She levered herself up with a groan and some effort. Akira had collapsed over her. His chest rose and fell against her back; his cock was still lodged in her pussy, shrinking and softening. She elbowed him into giving her some space and looked up, gazing around blearily. Her glasses had been knocked askew, and she reseated them on her face.

"Everyone okay?" she asked.

"More than okay," Tae mumbled, her eyes still closed. At some point Futaba's hand had fallen from her pussy, and now she reached for it, pulled it up to her mouth and set to work tonguing her fingers clean. Futaba smiled, and let her lick up her own juices while Akira wriggled himself free.

"Amazing," he gasped, flopping down beside his lovers.

His cum started to leak from Futaba in a thin dribble, and she took her hand back from Tae, caught some and ferried it to her own mouth. Tae darted in, licked up her own share, then pulled Futaba in for a kiss. Futaba melted into her, tasting pretty much everyone on her tongue. Once they were done, she rolled off Tae and onto Akira, and pressing her body to his, gave him the same treatment, and stayed clinging to him while he turned to Tae and embraced her.

At home, they's have stayed like that, tangled in each other, basking in their respective afterglows until someone got hungry or had to go to the toilet or some other such urgent demand called them away. Here, though, there was the constant thud of the bass from downstairs, calling them back to the dancefloor. Tae was the first to sit up, and she grabbed a pack of wipes from the shelf, passing them to her bedmates. They cleaned themselves up as best they could, and recovered their clothes. Dressed again, in a way that at least partially resembled the way they'd come in, they filed into the corridor, down the stairs and back out into the cacophony of the club.

"Drinks," Akira suggested. Tae and Futaba nodded in fervent agreement.

He bought them this time: beers for himself and Tae, something minty and refreshing (that refreshed her buzz too) for Futaba.

"Seriously, thanks for bringing us here, Tae," said Futaba stirring her drink with a straw. "It's an eye-opener. My eyes have been opened."

"Other parts, too," said Tae, completely deadpan.

"So how's that anxiety feeling?"

"Anxiety who?"

"Thanks, Tae," said Akira. "We uh, haven't embarrassed you or anything, have we? Your friends here are pretty hardcore."

Tae waved her hand dismissively. "Please, me taking a guy and a girl upstairs at the same time? People will be talking about that for, oh, a couple of nights, maybe. It's not actually that uncommon. Besides, no one here is gothier-than-thou. They wouldn't be members if they were."

"Well that's good," said Futaba, draining her drink. "'Cos I'm about to totally embarrass you on the dancefloor." She paused for a moment, and considered her words. "I mean, because I'll dance better than you, not because you'll be embarrassed because you're associated with me. Y'know, like contact embarra - aaaaand there's the anxiety again. "

Akira leaned over and kissed her forehead. "You're good," he said. "Tae gets it." She blushed.

Tae raised an eyebrow. "That sounded like a callout to me. An awkward one, but still..." She pounded her beer, slammed the glass down on the table, and stood.

Futaba got to her own feet. "You're on, Plague."

"Let's go, Dead Pixel."

"Oh man, I've gotta think of a better handle than that. Coming, Skull?"

Akira grinned, just like his stolen namesake. "Always."

Together, they headed to the floor, integrated themselves into the whirl of bodies, submersed themselves in the purity of light, sound and motion. Even over the bass, Futaba heard her fellow dancers talking.

"Hey, orange-hair's back."

"Real cutie."

"She's here with Plague?"

"Cool jacket."

"Think she'll become a member?"

"Hope so."

An uncontrollable smile spread itself across Futaba's face, a wild, raucous laugh burst from her, and she threw herself into the dance, surrounded, she knew, by people who accepted her for who she was and, either side of her ready to dance all night, two people who loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to B at bsnaughtyartcollection.tumblr.com for this one! Follow me at geistygeist.tumblr.com for more.


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